I was interested to hear an Irish turkey-shaped glove puppet say live on the Radio 4's Today programme that "we are all friends, all apart from Poles". Quite shocked, too. I would love to identify the reasons why my compatriots are so disliked by a "particularly nasty version of a Christmas dinner" (the words of another journalist), which, thankfully, did not make it through to the next round of this year's Eurovision. Its performance was extremely kitschy, even by Eurovision's standards, yet I also felt rather uncomfortable to hear such remarks made by this Irish "performer".

I have been watching Eurovision ever since I was a little girl. Under communism, it was a breath of fresh, western air for children regularly tortured with televised broadcasts of patriotic folk concerts or military song contests. As a child, I could only travel within the Soviet bloc. Needless to say, these were impoverished, communist nightmares of grey architecture and empty shops: a long road trip to Romania was not particularly exciting in those days.

On Eurovision song contest there were luxurious dresses, ostentatious wealth and bold colours out of reach for most in communist Poland. Also, the songs were not delivered in Polish or Russian - the latter forced on us all in schools - so they sounded like broadcasts from an weird, paradise-like world, located not too far away but still impossibly inaccessible. Having been brought up on government propaganda about conspiracy theories and western enemies lurking everywhere, I naively thought that the land of Eurovision was a haven of gentleness and peace, a place where everyone was beautiful and warm-hearted.

I still watch the contest these days, regardless of my musical tastes. I do it out of nostalgia, I guess. Every time the hosts collect the points from participating juries, I feel as thrilled as if I were 10 years old again. The adult in me sees the kitsch and ultimately the cheapness of the entertainment world, but hey - some people like Big Brother. This year, the Irish entry did not make it into the final. Poland was not so lucky. I am not a fan of Isis Gee. She is a beautiful woman with an unpolished voice, but then, Eurovision is not about chasing down real talent, so I shouldn't be too bothered.

This year, as usual, I was just going to watch the final with my friends, laughing our heads off at the performances and people's endless capacity for making fools out of themselves, but then Dustin the turkey from Limerick spoke. As it happens, I have a lot of warm feelings for Ireland. I travel to Belfast at least once a month, as I write for their local Polish newspaper, but so far have been lucky enough not to come across any unpleasant behaviour towards migrants there. I am aware of some tensions, of course. Still, Poles and the Irish generally think very much alike, so it was a shock to hear the star of a children's TV programme make unsubtle jokes, live on the BBC.

I guess it is time once again to remind some people that that Poles constitute one of the largest minority groups in the Republic of Ireland. As such, not only do we contribute greatly to the economy, but also have become neighbours, hopefully even friends. And as such, we have the same rights as everyone else. Nobody, not even a sock puppet, would dare publicly say "I dislike Muslims or Jews or Bangladeshis" and I have a dream that people will also refuse to accept to such statements when they relate to Poles. I know I should probably distance myself, see the funny side of it, but I would like to reserve the right to openly say, with full support from the locals, that it was rather unsporting and unacceptable behaviour. It is not on to bash Poles. We really need to learn how to live together, as some of us are going to stay here, in our new home.

On second thoughts, I should really care a little less about the opinions of a feathered foe. If he were a swan, I could roast and devour him. But turkeys are not the Polish national dish of legend, so I must absolve myself of any emotional attachment. Instead, let me admire the beautiful Isis Gee and ignore the squeaking of a turkey too lame to even make the Eurovision final.